The Play (Briar U, #3)(82)

I nod. “She sent me a funny meme the other day and we had a short convo.”

“For what it’s worth, she still feels terrible about everything.”

“She should,” I mutter, but my anger toward our friend isn’t as powerful as it used to be. Even my anger at Nico has dimmed.

“I really hope you two can be friends again one day, so we can hang out the way we used to. Maybe over the holiday break the three of us could have a girls’ night?”

A sigh flutters out. “I mean, we could try.”

“Hold up—you’re texting and making hangout plans with the chick who slept with your boyfriend?” Brenna demands. Her mouth is wide with disbelief, drawing attention to her trademark red lips. It’s the only splash of color amidst her black turtleneck, leggings and leather boots.

Pippa shakes her head wryly. “Seriously, Demi, you’re so fucking forgiving and understanding it makes me want to punch you.”

“Really? Those two wonderful qualities of mine make you want to punch me? Also! You literally just suggested we do a girls’ night. You’re encouraging me to be friends with Corinne again.”

“Yeah, but by agreeing to it you’re setting a bad example for the rest of us. You know, the grudge holders.”

Brenna grins. “I hold a mean grudge, I’ll tell you that.”

I roll my eyes at both of them. “I want to be a psychologist. That means I ought to practice what I preach, right?”

The second period gets underway when the referee skates up to the faceoff and drops the puck.

“How does he not get hurt?” Pippa demands.

“Who, the ref?” Brenna asks.

“Yes! Look at that little guy! He’s way too close to the action. One of those huge monsters could smash into him at any second and break every bone in his body.”

“I know it looks dangerous, but the refs know how to stay out of the way,” Brenna assures her.

A cheer rocks the arena and I squint hard, trying to understand what I’m seeing. #12 is flying past the blue line at the center of the rink. “Oooh, that’s Hunter! And he’s all alone.”

Brenna supplies the hockey lingo. “He’s on a breakaway.”

Oh gosh, he’s tearing toward the opposing net, his stick snapping up in preparation for his shot. As my heart lodges in my throat, I find myself shooting to my feet.

“Holy shit, you’re into hockey!” Pippa accuses, staring up at me in shock.

“Into it? No. But did you see that shot?” Hunter missed, but it was still ridiculously thrilling to watch.

Pippa narrows her eyes. “Ohhhhh,” she finally says. “I get what’s happening. You’re not into hockey. You’re into the hockey player.”

“No,” I lie. Then I groan. “Well, maybe a little.”

Brenna lets out a hoot. “That means a lot. Have you found the key to his chastity belt yet?”

A laugh pops out of my mouth. “No, sadly. It’s still locked up tight.” I hesitate for a beat. I haven’t told anybody about kissing Hunter, but I suspect that’s about to change. I need advice, and there’s no better time like the present.

So while Brenna and Pippa sit there grinning at me, I confess to the two kisses, which I think of as Bathroom Kiss and Salsa Kiss. “Salsa Kiss involved a butt squeeze,” I confess. “But then he stopped it from going any further. I think I might need to accept he’s not interested.”

“Bullshit,” Brenna says.

Pippa nods in agreement. “If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t keep kissing you back.”

“And then stopping it,” I reiterate. “He’s dead set on trying to be a good team leader and make hockey his priority.”

“Sleeping with you isn’t going to destroy the team.” Brenna rolls her eyes. “That’s just nonsense.”

“Maybe, but I can’t force someone to sleep with me. There’s this thing called consent?”

“Nobody’s telling you to force him,” Pippa says. “But it couldn’t hurt to give him a nudge?”

“I’ve done more than nudge. I kissed him twice. He shut me down twice. And after Salsa Kiss, I told him I wouldn’t hit on him again until he’s done with the season.”

“Then don’t hit on him.” An evil glint lights Brenna’s eyes. “You need to change your tactics here, babe. Stop going after him. Make him come to you.”

“How?”

“Make him jealous. Flirt with one of his buddies.”

“Oooh, Operation Jealousy!” Pippa chimes in. “That’s totally what you need to do.”

Make him jealous… I guess I already did that, the night I danced with Dean. And it worked, I realize. I wasn’t openly flirting, but the mere act of dancing with another man triggered Hunter’s possessive instincts.

“Isn’t there always a party after these games?” Pippa asks. “You should do it tonight.”

“I can’t. I have plans with TJ. Oh shit, that reminds me! I need to text him my ETA. When is the game over?” I ask Brenna. I’m worried I’ll end up being late, because even though we got here at seven-thirty, they didn’t drop the puck until past eight. There was a lot of preamble first, including a ceremony honoring a middle-aged alumnus who supposedly set a bunch of records back in the day.